Seven Sins
by KhaoticKris
Summary: Nightmares can change a person. Erol faces the realization that what he's doing is wrong. But what will it take for the Underground to trust him. Eventual Jak/Torn and Razer/Erol.
1. Sweet Dreams

Chapter warnings: Erol's mouth, slight gore.

"_The proud shall be broken upon the wheel..."_

Erol's eyelid's felt heavy as he tried to open his eyes. His ears were ringing and his body felt heavy. Everything was slow and heavy, somewhere between a nasty hangover and drowning. Slowly, the redhead was beginning to realize that something was very wrong. He wasn't in his bed, in fact, as he opened his eyes he wasn't anywhere he recognized. The room was dark, too dark to see the other side of it and there were puddles resting on the cracked concrete floor. As his senses slowly came back to him, he realized that he was upright, and quickly that haziness he'd woken up with was being eaten away with adrenaline. As he went to move, a sudden jolt of realization hit him that he was restrained. He was bound by his wrists and ankles, to what appeared to be some sort of large wooden wheel.

The smell was what hit him next, and it was like a physical blow. Erol grit his teeth to fight down the rising nausea. He'd spilt enough blood to recognize the smell, but here it was rotting, festering. His eyes flicked around the room now, near frantic, but held tight to his control from years of military training. He needed to devise a way out of his bindings, and then he could worry about where he was. And after that, of course, came destroying what asshole thought they could keep _him _here. He tugged at the restraints, ignoring the bite of splinters into the backs of his hands as he jerked. He ground his teeth in an effort not to start snarling and swearing, with how water logged this place seemed the wood should have been soft and easy to rip apart, but it was holding tight and the leather straps that bound him showed no signs of wear and tear or fraying that he could take advantage of.

Erol would never admit it but his heart skipped a beat as the sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere in the blackness. What purpose could someone have for keeping him here like this? If it were an enemy, he'd have been dead already. The underground movement? He knew they had a spy, though he was yet to figure out who it was, so they wouldn't need him for information. His eyes narrowed, trying to make out the figure starting to emerge from the near palpable darkness.

The figure came into the low light, and Erol's chest tightened. Something was fundamentally wrong. The man before him was pale as a corpse, waves of black hair resembling the darkness he'd come from. His ears were short, and his eyes were unlike anything he'd seen. The eerie red-purple color seemed to glow against his dead skin, and his lips were curled into a knife like smirk. As he stepped closer, he realized how tall he was, easily towering over him even though his feet didn't touch the floor where he was restrained. He gave a hard jerk against his bindings and snarled, a show of his rapidly waning bravery.

The low laugh that came from the man seemed to rattle it's way up his spine and Erol had to repress a shiver. There was something so fundamentally _wrong _about this presence, and it was eating at him, gnawing at his courage and stubbornness, fear starting to ebb into him. He refused to give into it. "Who the hell are you." He damn near growled the sentence. He would not stand for being treated like this. He was a military officer, and Haven's best racer. Some pale, skinny twat would not disrespect him.

"Who I am is of no importance." That voice seemed to come with a very physical chill in the room, and Erol felt goosebumps on his skin. His gold eyes widened as the man- _creature _standing in front of him licked his lip, and his canines were pointed and elongated, pearly white fangs. He jerked against the leather bindings again, his face twisted into an angry snarl as he fought down the growing sense of unease.

_"I asked you a fucking question." _The redhead took a small bit of satisfaction that his voice didn't betray the doubt and unease swirling within him. He got another eerie laugh in response. The man had a look on his face that reminded him far too much of some sort of predatory animal. His world suddenly jarred sideways with a jolt that rattled his bones as the wheel he was strapped to turned, heavily thudding against the ground. It left him at an unpleasant angle, diagonal to the ground and unable to do anything about it.

The pale skinned man reached out a clawed hand to run his black nails along Erol's cheek gently, and he jerks away. The smile the other was wearing was almost sweet, but he recognized the same sick anticipation in it that he often felt when he punished prisoners. His heart sank in his chest and the unease he'd been feeling was turning sharper now, fear undeniably twisting in his gut.

_"In Hell, those who have committed the sin of Pride shall be broken upon the wheel."_

Erol felt his heart skip a beat again. His body fell deadly still for a moment as he tried to process what the man had just said. No. This was someone's idea of a fucking joke. There was no such thing as Hell, and he wasn't dead. He snarled and jerked violently, cursing at the man in front of him and trying to press down on the rising fear that it wasn't a joke, that this was real.

His eyes followed the other man's movements almost frantically as he moved, and to his growing horror he watched as he pulled something away from the wall behind him that he couldn't see, and there was no mistaking the glint of a blade in his hand. His struggling intensified and his eyes were glued to the knife, and he found himself unable to look away as it drew closer and closer to his side. A cold laugh echoed in his ears and there was the sound of ripping fabric as the knife sliced through it, and then came the cold, sharp pain in his side. The shallow cut wept red, trickling down his abdomen and soaking the fabric of his shirt.

Erol's eyes shot up to the man's face, seeing that sadistic smile there that he often wore himself. The cut stung, but it was far from the worst he'd had, but all of a sudden the situation was all too real. He realized he'd fallen still and his breath caught in his throat as that same blade was placed at his throat, and then it drew down, slicing the fabric of his shirt open, this time leaving his skin untouched. His breath came out shaky, and he didn't realize he'd been holding it. His eyes slid down to the knife again as he felt the cold steel press against his side again.

This time it pressed deep and slowly – _so fucking slowly –_ drew across his abdomen. A shaky cry started to leave his lips, the pain burned across him, and blood was just pouring out. His eyes rolled back before they squeezed shut and he was doing his best to bite down on the sounds of pain trying to rip themselves from his throat. Still, choked off whimpers slipped out, and nausea rose in him as there was the unmistakable feeling of a cold mouth sealing over the deep wound, and a tongue probing in-

Erol awoke with a gasp, sitting straight upright in his bed and his hand shooting to his stomach. He was drenched in a col sweat, and his heart hammered in his chest as he frantically scrabbled at his night shirt, pulling it up to see if his skin was broken. His fingers ran over the smooth skin in disbelief. The pain had been so real. As his heart began to slow, a horrible realization started to sink in. _He did this to people. _He felt sick again. This time he couldn't stop it, and he barely made it to the bathroom before the contents of his stomach came up. His throat felt raw and his eyes burned. Guilt was like a weight on his chest. He felt panicked still. How could he have done those things, _tortured _people like that. Shivers ran down his spine as he pressed his back to the cold bathroom wall, and he buried his hands in his messy red hair. His chest heaved and he tried to keep the tears back. How could he have not realized how wrong this was.

He needed to change.


	2. Wondering Thoughts

Chapter warnings: None

_"Who can resist a chance to taste salvation..."_

The shower faucet squeaked in protest as he turned it on, stepping into the water before it had a chance to heat up. He shivered slightly at the icy beads of water rolling down his back and shoulders, and he scrubbed at his face. The tear stains that streaked his cheeks were washed away, but his eyes felt puffy and irritated now. He'd spent far longer than he'd ever admit to curled up in the corner of his bathroom, choking on his tears as he tried to come to terms with the brainwashed monster that he'd become. He didn't know when it had started, there was no clear moment where it had really begun. It was little things at first, slowly beginning to abuse his power when he'd risen in the ranks. Harsher punishments for the prisoners, before he began to abuse them himself. Mindlessly following Praxis' orders exactly as he said them, no thought of his own.

The water was hot now, scalding against his skin and he scrubbed at his skin, disgusted with himself. The disgust and shock were wearing off, changing into anger now. How had he just let himself become so mindless! He was better than that. He didn't thoughtlessly follow orders without question, if there was someone in a position of power above them, of course he should question. If he didn't how could he watch for them to slip up so he could advance himself farther? He roughly worked shampoo through his hair, scowling at himself. He was low on options however. The underground movement certainly wouldn't welcome him with open arms, and leaving the KG wasn't exactly easy. Death or desertion were really the only options out.

So it looked like he'd be on his own, unless he could earn their trust. And with the Eco Freak in their ranks, he was sure they'd know to some extent what he'd done... and he knew that Torn was in charge, though the identities of all of them were still a mystery. Even when they were both in the KG they hadn't gotten along very well. He had to think of a plan before he went ahead with this... He'd have to move once he left the KG, they'd come looking for him for sure, and it would be moronic to stay in the same place. And he was a well known face around the city, there was no way he could go out, the guards would recognize him in an instant. And the citizens for that matter, there were posters of him as the racing champion everywhere-

The race.

He grit his teeth, the championship race was tomorrow, and the Eco Freak had managed to make it in. He was going to destroy him for even thinking that he could best him- An idea hit him then, and the scalding water felt icy. Racing was a core part of who he was, what kept him sane some days when the grunts under him in the guard couldn't do anything right. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, shaking his head before toweling off his hair and the rest of his body. Walking back into his bedroom brought back memories of the nightmare he'd woken from not so long ago. Phantom pain laced across his abdomen, and his hand went over the spot where he remembered the knife going in. Normally his dreams faded in minutes after he woke, but this one was lingering. If he closed his eyes, he could picture it still, the face of the creature that tormented him, and the damp, rotting smell of the room. His eyes snapped open and he shook his head with a scoff, wandering to his dresser to pull on a fresh set of clothes. It was still the early hours of the morning, but he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep now.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his mattress creaking a little, and he rested his head on his hands. He went back to what had crossed his mind in the shower and he furrowed his brow, angry that he'd even consider it. If there was one thing that he could do to show he'd was really ready to throw everything he had right now away, he'd have his chance tomorrow. He could throw the race and let the freak win. He clenched his fists. It went against every fiber of his being... and that was the point. If he could show them that he was willing to go against that maybe he could manage to convince them that he was going to betray Praxis as well. It filled him with anger to even think about it, but he knew he couldn't do this by himself, as much as it pained him to admit. He'd be recognized, and caught, if not shot on sight.

He ran his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't see a lot of other options. In fact, some of his other options looked like being shot, or tortured, or something in between. He snarled to himself as he got up and paced. The sun was just starting to come up, though you really had to look through the city smog to see it... when the hell had he gone so blind to this. He sighed and leaned on his windowsill, watching the watery light stream through. It made him feel almost physically sick, thinking of purposefully losing to the Eco Freak- Jak... he should probably attempt to call him by name- no, that was too nice. That would seem like he was trying too hard. But... he clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into the skin on his palms. The realization had been too startling, too raw and real to just ignore, but this... it just felt so wrong.

As his anger and resolve to go through with it battled against one another until his frustration drove him to slam his fist into the wall, growling to himself. He let out a long breath, trying to let his anger drain away with it. He had to throw the race. It was that or meeting his death, be it slow and painful or quick, at the wrong end of a gun or in the jaws of a metalhead. He prided himself in his ability as a commander and a warrior, but he knew it would be impossible to take on the whole KG himself, and the metalheads. He knew Praxis had a deal with them, and that was only going to make things worse. He flexed his hand and ignored the twinge of pain in his knuckles, and let out a grudgingly defeated sigh. This was going to kill him. Jak was never going to let it go either.

But a little voice in the back of his head told him he deserved it for what he'd done to him.


End file.
